Touch of a Man
by Angel More
Summary: I know it's odd, but it's not impossible. Oneshot.


Something I just came across, it started as a picture in my head and it evolved to this. I know it's odd, but nevertheless I hope you like it.

- Henry, you're such an asshole – muttered Charles between gritted teeth, while he was leaving Whitehall behind, where the King was feasting with that whore Anne Boleyn, to visit his niece, Lady Mary Tudor. Her health had never been strong, and it was whispered she had fallen seriously ill. Instead of visiting her himself, like any father should, Henry commanded him to go see "if Her Ladyship needed anything else, for I am too busy" (Henry's words verbatim). Charles had suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Right… busy on what, exactly, Your Majesty? Fucking your whore? Treating your daughter and lawful wife worse than abandoned dogs? Forbidding the Imperial Ambassador to see them, fearing they would conspire against him? Oh, well, that was enough to keep a man's mind occupied, alright. So there he was, riding to Hatfield, where his niece, daughter and granddaughter of Kings twice over, was reduced to a mere lady-in-waiting to her younger sister, Princess Elizabeth.

He arrived to Hatfield late that evening. He was received by Lady Bryan, Elizabeth's governess, whose indifference and coldness towards the Lady's condition made him clench his teeth in anger. Still, he composed his expression while he waited to see her. What he saw made Charles heart shrink.

There she was, paler and thinner than ever, with bags under her eyes and dishevelled hair, breathing irregularly. Nevertheless, her smile was warm towards him.

- My Lord Suffolk – she said, when Lady Bryan left them alone, curtseying briefly, for her knees wouldn't support her for a long time.

- My Lady – he bowed deeply. – I came to see how you are doing. It is said you haven't been feeling well lately – he said sympathetically.

- His Majesty is far too kind to send someone to check on me – she said gently, although Charles could see a hint of hurt in her eyes.

- You seem… not quite well – he said worriedly.

- It's nothing… - Mary shook her head. – It doesn't hurt, really. I just feel dizzy sometimes… and extremely tired – she said, closing her eyes as if she was about to lose her balance. Charles ran towards her just in time to catch her.

- Mary, you must sit – he said, placing her gently on a cushioned armchair and serving her a glass of water. – How long have you been like this? – he said lovingly, caressing her hair.

- Ever since that whore locked me here – Mary confessed, tears welling up on her eyes. – I can't stand this, uncle Charles. As much as I love Elizabeth – despite her wretched mother, she's a sweet little baby, you should see her – and Charles was touched by the loving tone of her voice, simply nodding – they don't let me get near her. I'm useless here, and the other ladies favourite sport is to reprehend me. They don't allow me to play the lute, or to take a stroll outside. I feel like a bird trapped on a cage.

Charles sighed inwardly. Poor her, she had been through Hell. He gently took her in his arms, sitting Mary on his lap and gently caressing her cheek.

- I understand. Your father… has not been himself lately – he chose the words carefully. She nodded vigorously.

- It's all that mistress's fault. That whore Anne Boleyn. Nonetheless, I shall pray the Lord guides him through the right path – Mary said very quietly.

- Amen – Charles added.

After a brief and comfortable silence, Mary suddenly asked:

- How are my cousins? I haven't seen them in a long time… Edward must be a young lad right now.

- Yes, he is – Charles said proudly. – He's very clever, and very talented in archery.

- I'm sure my aunt would be very proud – Mary whispered. Charles felt suddenly guilty. Margaret was still an aching wound on his memory.

- She would be even more proud of you, of what you are enduring… and most of all, of the beautiful and gracious woman you have become – he blurted out, cursing himself immediately after. What would Mary think of him?

She blushed shyly. It was obvious she had become used to not being complimented.

- I bet I must look really beautiful right now – she said with a playful smile.

- You are – and Charles became dead serious. – You are not sick, at least not physically. I shall speak with your father privately. Some fresh air will do wonders for your health… - his eyes lit up with an idea. – Speaking of which, come with me – he said, gently putting her on the ground and taking her hand. Mary tried to protest.

- They won't let me…

- Shh. I'm the Duke of Suffolk, remember? For once this bloody title will serve a good cause – he winked and she giggled.

A few minutes later, much to the other ladies dismay, they were walking outside. Mary took a deep breath, while the sweet scent of spring flowers filled her nostrils.

- Thank you, uncle Charles. It feels good to breathe fresh air after such a long time.

- I guessed so – he smiled, putting a hand around her waist without thinking. Then he cursed himself again, but Mary didn't reject him. Instead, she put her head on the crook of his neck, smiling contently. Charles would have liked to hold her tight, but he chided himself.

- Is there anything else I can do for my favourite niece? – Charles whispered in her hair.

- Can you find me a good husband? I'd be forever grateful to Your Grace – she said lightly, but he stopped dead on his tracks.

- Are you that desperate to marry?

Mary looked around to confirm they were alone.

- Yes… I mean, no… well, I don't know – she blushed. – I guess it would be my only way…

- … of setting yourself free from Lady Boleyn – he completed the sentence.

- Yes… partly – she added, lowering her tone.

- Partly? – he repeated. She was scarlet at that time.

- Uncle Charles, if I tell you something you promise not to tell anyone what I said to you?

- Sure Mary, you can trust me. What is it?

- Well… - she started, uncomfortably. – I know that probably you aren't the best person to be told this, but… the truth is that I wanted to marry because… - she couldn't find her words.

- Because? – he prompted her.

- I know this is a sin… but it happens that lately, I have been… wondering how it feels to be kissed or to be touched… you know… like a woman should be touched by her loved one.

Charles felt the urge of laughing but he nodded understandingly. She was a woman of eighteen now. It was understandable she felt curious about her own body, her feelings. And she had every reason to be curious, a sneaky voice in his head whispered. Her face was beautiful, her features elegant, her lips were so delicate… Before he could tell what he was doing, Charles lowered her head towards her, kissing her gently and sweetly.

When they broke the kiss, he was deeply ashamed. Henry would have his head for this, if he knew it. Still he didn't let go of her waist.

- Mary, I am sorry… I didn't…

Mary was flustered, but still she didn't have the heart to back off. The kiss had been too special, too gentle. She felt butterflies in her stomach, but still she was able to retort in a spirited way:

- When I told you about my feelings, I wasn't expecting you to give practical explanations, Your Grace.

They faced each other for a moment and then broke in a wave of laughter. Charles felt so relieved he couldn't describe it. They kept on walking, still hugged to each other, but definitely something had changed between them. Mary felt alive, more alive than ever. She was more aware of his male presence now. For what it was worth, she would never look at Charles the same way.

And deep inside, he wouldn't look at her the same way too.


End file.
